In the Dark and Rain
by wordybee
Summary: It's the knowledge that tomorrow she'll be leaving that lets her relax. No leak, no cold night on her "safety of the resident" psych-ward cot could dampen her spirits.


_Message from the author: I'm filling in some gaps between this account and my LJ account, which means posting some old fics over here. This was originally written October of 2012._

**Title: **In the Dark and Rain  
**Author: **wordybee  
**Spoilers: **Remedial Chaos Theory. You've seen that though, right?  
**Rating: **G.  
**Warnings: **Psychological stuff, general lack of fun.  
**Word Count: **3,014  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Community.  
**Summary: **It's the knowledge that tomorrow she'll be leaving that lets her relax. No leak, no cold night on her _safety of the resident_ psych-ward cot could dampen her spirits.

* * *

_Drip, drip, drip_.

It's raining outside and there's a leak in the roof over Annie's room. Honestly, she's paying to be medicated and psychoanalyzed and whatever else and they can't even afford to fix a leak in the roof? It is disgraceful, really. Everything about her stay has been disgraceful. She'd gotten much better care when she'd been in rehab three years ago. Much, much better care.

_Doesn't matter_, Annie thinks to herself. Because she'll be gone soon.

Still, Annie can't sleep with the dripping sound and she wants to be well rested for tomorrow. So she gets up and pulls her sheet from her little no-screws-no-springs-no-dangerous-parts cot (_For the safety of the resident!_ the nurse who'd admitted Annie had said, like a realtor showing the master bedroom of a home, all cheerful and _selling_ it. Like Annie really had a choice in whether or not she'd _buy_) and she piles the sheet into the puddle. There's no longer the wet-on-wet sound of water drops on water and Annie sighs in relief. The problem now, of course, is that she no longer has a sheet.

Annie curls up on her cot and tucks her knees and arms into the shirt of her scrubs and it's not comfortable – she's used to flopping around and stretching out in her sleep – but eventually she drifts off. It's the knowledge that tomorrow she'll be leaving that lets her relax. No leak, no cold night on her _safety of the resident_ psych-ward cot could dampen her spirits.

Tomorrow she's going home.

Annie has no bags to pack. She just puts the clothes she'd been wearing when she'd arrived back on and there's nothing that feels like _leaving_ except that she walks through a door she hasn't walked through in three months. She sits it the little welcoming room at the front of the hospital and the nurse at the front desk periodically looks up and smiles at her.

Britta is the one who picks her up from the hospital. Annie has never been happier to see the woman's face in her life and she immediately rushes up to envelop Britta in a tight, relieved hug.

"We've missed you!" Britta murmurs into her ear. Annie's got tears on her face and her _"I missed you, too,_" just comes out as a sob but good god, she missed her too.

She missed all of them. She wants to see them _all_.

Britta pulls away and rubs Annie's back in a comforting gesture. Her car keys are still in her hands and they keep scratching her but Annie doesn't care.

"Home," she manages to choke out. Britta grins a watery grin and nods.

"I know, Annie."

* * *

Annie is staying with Britta until they can find her somewhere else. All her things are in storage. Britta tells her that they've all been helping keep up the payments and they'll continue until Annie gets back on her feet.

"Thank you so much," Annie says to her. It's the first full sentence Annie's been able to say since she got picked up. It's a fitting one.

Annie's second sentence is when they're pulling up to Britta's apartment building and she's walking alongside her friend. She looks over at Britta and she says, "Did you change your hair?"

* * *

Shirley is already wiping tears from her eyes when she drops by to say hello and Annie is crying again. She wishes she could see them all at once but apparently schedules aren't lining up properly. A lot has changed in three months and the group is still a group, but they're no longer a limited company. They're autonomous individuals connected by friendship and love and, unfortunately, friendship and love don't shift time or clear schedules.

Shirley says they're planning on a group get-together during the weekend.

"We'll see," she tells Annie as she's getting ready to leave. Annie nods happily at her, her heart lifting at the prospect.

* * *

Abed and Troy visit her together, at least. They're both slightly awkward around her and Annie wants to take them and shake them into being fine again. After all, _she's_ fine. She asks Troy, "Are you okay?" and he looks at her strangely. Of course.

_She's_ the one who just got out of the hospital. Of course. Ridiculous of her to ask about him (to him, at least, but Annie thinks it's very reasonable, considering…)

Abed gives them a side-eye and Annie smirks. She hugs him, happy to be in his presence once more. She squeezes Troy's hand and hugs him, too. She apologizes repeatedly for getting tears and snot all over their shirts but she can't stop crying with the joy of seeing them again.

* * *

When Jeff shows up he's even more awkward than Troy and Abed were. It's fascinating to see cool Jeff Winger lurking hesitantly in the doorway like he's not sure if he's welcome. When she hugs him he doesn't _quite_ return the gesture, standing stiffly like he doesn't want to hurt her or he doesn't think his touch would be acceptable.

"I'm not going to break, Jeff," she tells him, her words muffled with her face against his shoulder. It's been so long that she'd somehow forgotten how very _tall_ he is.

"I just missed you, is all," he says. He pulls away to get a good look at her. "How are you holding up here?"

Annie shrugs. "A bit drafty. No worse than the Dildopolis apartment, though… But I get kind of freaked out when I'm alone. I'm alone a lot..."

"I wish I could come by and keep you company more often." Jeff's moved back into Awkward Mode and Annie gives him a fond smile.

"You _can_." She lifts herself up on tip-toes and kisses him on the cheek. "I missed you, too."

She doesn't cry around Jeff. She doesn't let go of his hand as she guides him around the apartment. She leads him to Britta's couch and they both sit down, Annie nestled against Jeff's side and she just enjoys being near him again. She shivers and he rubs her shoulders in a way that's comforting and warming and appreciative all in one. She likes to think that he's just enjoying being near her, too.

* * *

Britta's apartment is old and creaky. The pipes clank and wind whistles through the cracks around the windows. Annie's staying on the couch in the living room because there's only one bedroom, but it's an okay couch. It's still storming outside, just like it had been a couple days ago during Annie's last night in the psych ward. There's a tree outside the living room window that keeps scratch-scratch-scratching against the glass and Annie can see that it's just a tree but it's making goosebumps crawl across her skin. She chews nervously on her lip and watches the shadow of the tree move across the room. It sways like it's pacing, like it's stalking her from outside – _Scraaaaatch…. Scraaaaaatch…. Scraaaaaaatch…_

The pipes clank. The rain goes _drip, drip, drip_ onto the windowsill and Annie curls up on herself. She keeps watching.

_Scraaaatch… Scraaaaaatch… Scraaaaatch…_

She gets up and walks into the kitchen to get her phone – just a pre-paid thing Britta had bought her until they could get her real phone turned back on – off the table and dials Jeff's number. He picks up on the fourth ring, voice tired.

"Annie?"

"Hi." Annie nervously wraps the hem of her nightshirt around her finger over and over. "Sorry. It's late. Early. Um…"

"It's fine. Do you need something?"

"Can you come over here?" The words are out of Annie's mouth before she can think about it. She knows she shouldn't be like this, shouldn't be looking for Jeff to protect her – she is strong and independent and too old to be freaked out by tree limbs, clanking pipes, or rain – but it doesn't matter that she knows. Knowing that she's being ridiculous doesn't make her any less afraid, or make her want Jeff by her side any less.

There's a pause. "I can try," Jeff says.

The rain is really coming down outside. Annie's not surprised by his hesitation but she's feeling a bit selfish at the moment. "Thank you," she says quietly. She hangs up and clutches the phone to her chest, her eyes following the swaying-pacing-stalking-scratching tree outside. She moves further into the kitchen so she can't see it anymore and it gives her time to breathe.

She counts to ten over and over again, a technique they'd taught her in therapy that was meant to ground her and keep her calm and focused. She can't quite keep it up, losing track repeatedly even with her eyes closed. There's a new terror that's creeping up around her general terror, a little voice in the back of her head that's telling her she's snapping again, that she'll have to go back to the hospital and she doesn't want to. She _needs_ to be out of there. She doesn't want to go back. She doesn't want to leave her friends again, to leave _Jeff_. In the distance, thunder rumbles lowly, threateningly, not quite breaking.

She has no idea how much counting she's done by the time there's a knock on the door, hasn't a clue how much time has passed. The knock makes her jump, but then she realizes who it's going to be and rushes to get the chain undone, get the deadbolt unlocked, slide the high bolt and turn the knob.

She wraps her arms around Jeff's neck, her feet lifting off the floor in a desperate display that knocks him back a step. She's quite small, though, so it's no problem at all for Jeff to hold on to her and move her back into the room. He shuts the door with his foot.

"What the hell's going on?" Jeff asks her. He caresses her hair in a comforting way that also doubles as a way to get strands of hair away from his mouth. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Annie lies. She hasn't eased up on her death grip around Jeff's neck. She doesn't want to explain to him that she's terrified of a tree and weather and Britta's apartment. She doesn't want him to know that her mind might be fracturing again and give him a reason to send her back to Greendale Psychiatric. She hopes he can't feel her heart thumping inside her chest.

"I'm sorry it took so long," Jeff says to her, sidestepping her _obvious_ lie with grace and empathy. He's still petting her hair but he's trying to ease her arms from around his neck. Annie's feet touch the floor again and Jeff ushers her to the kitchen table. He settles her into one of the chairs and the couch would probably be better but he's going for convenience over comfort so, kitchen table it is. Annie's secretly glad because she doesn't want to be in the room with that shadow anymore and at least from here she can barely see it. She can't hear the scratching at all, and that was the worst part.

She says, "It's okay… the storm and everything. I just got a little freaked out…" She smiles wanly and Jeff mirrors the expression, one hand on Annie's neck as the other reaches up to wipe away a tear from her cheek. Annie flinches away and Jeff's hands immediately leave her. He holds them palm-out like he's placating a scared animal and there's something not quite _right_.

Annie shakes her head. "Sorry. Sorry. Um… it's the tree…"

"Tree?"

"Well, it's fine now. Can't hear from here."

Jeff's eyes narrow. He looks at Annie carefully, really _looks_ at her, like he's trying to see inside her head. He must think she's absolutely ridiculous.

"I probably should've just called Britta," she laughs.

Shaking his head, Jeff's hands move toward Annie again and she gets the feeling of _not quite right_ once more. She's forgetting something. Something has shifted and she can't tell what it is but it's so _obvious_. She laughs again and the sound is a clumsy bubble of nervous energy. She says, "It's her apartment."

Jeff's face _falls_. There's no other way to describe it. It just crumples before her eyes like he's realized something absolutely terrible. He's aged years because of it. Annie touches his cheek with her fingertips, lightly, and says, "What's wrong?"

"Is that where you think you are?" Like Annie's laugh from earlier, the words coming from Jeff are clumsy and strange but instead of bubbling up they fall, flat and heavy in the air. They thud through the constant sound of rain outside. Thunder rumbles, crashes, and Annie winces. Jeff tightens his hold on her, his arms strong and comforting.

That's when Annie realizes what's been wrong. Jeff's arms.

He lost one of them in the fire, except he didn't.

The narrative goes that Jeff lost an arm in the fire, and Troy damaged his larynx, and Shirley had turned to drinking, and Pierce had died, and Annie had gone insane. Except only one of those had happened, apparently, because Jeff is holding her with two arms and Troy was just fine, confused by her worry, and Shirley had been so, so sad but perfectly sober… and Britta was never in her own apartment… That was strange. That was very, very…

Jeff leans forward and kisses Annie on the lips. He takes her hand in _both_ of his. A golden ring glints on his left ring finger and Annie –

"What year is it?" Annie asks him. Britta's apartment has faded into the visitation room of Greendale Psychiatric Hospital and she realizes she's having a moment of _true_ lucidity when she recognizes that the few new wrinkles on Jeff's face aren't from devastation or worry, but from honest aging. The age slowly starts to feel familiar to her.

"2019," he tells her. "What year do you think it is?"

"2012. It's 2012 there." Annie sighs. "I just got released." She laughs, bitterly, "It's _the darkest timeline_."

Jeff wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him and holds her tightly. "You'll be okay, Annie. I promise."

Annie nods into his shoulder. They stay like that until a nurse comes up and tells Annie that she should go back to her room. Annie clutches Jeff's arm as she's escorted back, and he's allowed into her room to say goodbye but the nurse is still standing there, discreetly watching them through the little window in the door while trying to give them the impression of privacy. For the most part they're pretty lenient in Annie's wing. She has a lot more freedom now than she used to, certainly. She'd been making progress and with progress comes freedom.

* * *

When Jeff leaves Annie's room the nurse smiles politely at him and shuffles off to do nurse things. Jeff catches an orderly pacing the halls. The man had been idly running his clipboard up and down the walls, whistling, and Jeff rolls his eyes. "She's trying to rest, you know," he tells him, gesturing at Annie's door. "Could you stop it?"

To his credit, the orderly nods contritely and starts pacing in the middle of the hall rather than lazily along the sides. Jeff sighs and looks out the hall window of the hospital, where the rain is still falling and it's dark but the sun is trying its damnedest to shine again.

In the next hall Jeff catches the arm of Annie's doctor.

"Mr. Winger. What brings you here?"

"She called me this morning," Jeff says. "Apparently walked right up to the community phone and called me… She thought she was at our friend's house, seven years ago. You told me she was getting better. Visitors, reduced medication, might be getting out, the works. What the hell happened?"

"We're still very optimistic for your wife, Mr. Winger," says the doctor. "We're certain that, with a little more work we'll get her back to you very soon. Keep visiting her; keep your friends visiting her. Eventually her mind will get over the trauma of—"

Jeff winces. Dr. Palfrey notices and, thankfully, stops with an understanding smile. He pats Jeff's shoulder. "Just give it time… Where did you say she thought she was?"

"2012. The… _darkest timeline_," Jeff says. At Dr. Palfrey's questioning look Jeff clarifies, "It was a thing back in college our friend kept telling us… Weirdly enough, she'd been in an institute in that one…"

"That might be a good sign for coping," says Dr. Palfrey. "She usually goes toward much more innocent, happy memories during these episodes so something _darker_ might be her finally getting a handle on reality… Like I said. We're optimistic."

Nodding, Jeff pulls away from the doctor and starts walking toward the exit. Halfway there he stops and turns,

"And could you fix the roof in there? There's a leak. I'm paying you guys a lot of money to take care of her, the least you could do is basic upkeep on your building."

"I'll see that it's done, Mr. Winger."

* * *

Annie crawls onto her cot and clings to the feeling of Jeff holding her, clings to the memories – she's remembering them, now, remembering how they really were – of her friends hugging her and telling her how much they missed her, surrounded by the reality of the visitation room rather than the fantasy of Britta's apartment. There's a dangerous part of her brain that she's trying to avoid prodding because she knows it'll set her back and she _knows_ she's been making progress. Three months in here and her friends were finally able to visit her and—

Thunder roars.

_There was a crash and blood and Annie was crying and—_

She cuts off her own thoughts with a choked noise. The sensation of Jeff's presence is fading, her memories of her friends' visits, her realization…

It's raining outside and there's a leak in her roof and it's going _drip, drip, drip_ but Annie doesn't care.

Tomorrow she's going home.


End file.
